10/30/2018 0 Comments Ore to Shore - Hard RockThis past August I raced in the Ore to Shore Mountain Bike Epic - Hard Rock for the second time. The Hard Rock is a 48 mile mountain and road bike race zig-zagging between downtown Negaunee to Lake View Arena in Marquette. It's Michigan's largest point-to-point and mass start mountain bike race. Racers come from across the country, and when you go across the finish line the announcer says your bib number, name, and hometown. I have raced in the Soft Rock (28 miles) three years in a row and the Hard Rock for the past two years.
Last year in the Hard Rock, I did not eat or drink enough during the race, and at the Forestville aid station I was stopped by race officials because they noticed I didn't look well. I stayed there for a half hour while I ate a banana, donut holes, and drank water and Pepsi. I was shaky and crying and nervous as heck; the race officials were concerned and they performed a series of tests (blood sugar, looked at my dilated eyes, etc.) on me to make sure I was okay. Just as the race sweepers came by for a break and a chat, the race officials let me ride with them after my continuous pleas to let me finish the race. I rode the last 8 miles from the Forestville aid station to the finish surrounded by hardcore mountain biking men that pushed and cheered me along. Long story short, I made it to the finish just as one of the other races was starting, got in the Subaru, and went back to Aunt Lynn's house. The race was low-key a disaster, I came in dead last for the women, and nearly last overall. All I knew was that I had to do better the next year. AND GUESS WHAT, I didn't die in the Hard Rock this year! In the weeks leading up to the race I biked more, improved my pedal strokes, worked hard on the up-hills, and I got excited to be an active participant in the race [instead of in the sweeper crew ;) ]. 8:30 am Negaunee (10am start) My Mom and I left Newberry at 6 am to get to Negaunee/Marquette by 8-8:30. We stopped at a grocery store to pick up pre-race food. I unknowingly at the time picked up a Clif Bar with a cyclist on it, and once I saw it, I knew it was meant to be. 9:00 am We find a parking spot by the start of the Hard Rock, and locate the packet pick-up. I get myself and my bike ready, and ride around to get the layout of the start familiarized. Even by this time, with only having rode 5 minutes max, my knees felt like they were going to fall off. I proceed to take an ibuprofen and put icy hot on my knees. 9:59 am I am pleading to the ancient maya gods that this race goes well and that in spirit all of KI is cheering me on. 10:00 am The gun goes off and I am off on a wonderful adventure! The race goes smoothly, within the first 8 miles I take a crash that leaves my leg with road (gravel) rash and my front brakes inaccessible. Everything is A-Okay though, because I am riding and in the glorious UP and in no major pain. I drink water, eat gel packs, and stop at aid stations. At the same Forestville aid station that I was DYING at last year, I was thriving. Some of the volunteers there actually remembered me from last year (embarrassing heh) and they were nearly as excited as me that I was doing much better this year. But, the absolute best part of racing this year (besides actually racing) was the reactions of women and girls watching me - a woman - racing alongside the men. Cycling, as with most sports, is dominated by men. In the Hard Rock last year, there were 92 women out of a total of 713 racers. That is a very LARGE gender gap, and it's here and very real. Multiple times throughout the race, I would see young girls following their parents as volunteers for road crossings. The young girls' faces would light up and they would wave at me. At the last large hill, three women decorated the trial and cheered racers on. At this time, I was leap-frogging with two other women, and once the women on the top of the hill saw the three of us - I heard "LOOK, IT'S WOMEN!" My heart exploded and I was so filled with joy that there were women supporting women because in cycling we're a minority - and this was all coursing through my tired-hyped-head. Moral of the story - the Hard Rock was a blast, I didn't die, and I'm ready to do it again next year.
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Author: Eryn corinthCyclist. Feminist. Outdoor enthusiast. Tree hugger. Archives
October 2022
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